What the Sam Hill?

Dear Readers:

Something mysterious and strange happened to me recently. More strange than the look on my face after I've chugged a glass of milk and realized it was buttermilk. Nah, this was even better. My wife and I were taking in the sights at a Florida state park when, behold, she spotted it -- the rare thing! Our conversation went something like this:

Wife: "Get the camera! I can't believe it! It's a Sand Hill Crane."

Me: "What crane?"

Wife: "It's over there. Hurry! They're really rare."

Me: "What crane?"

Then I started to grow more excited after I realized she used the "rare" word. Something's riveting about rare things: steak, spare ribs(rhymes with rare), or"I rarely see you anymore; rare have you been?" Anyhow, because it was a rare bird, I was excited. Looking more closely, we saw there were two -- probably a mommy and daddy bird making rare baby birdies. We managed to sneak up close to snap the picture on the bottom left -- the crane's in the middle. We moved on and continued our nature hike until we started to melt from the Florida sun and had to head back. Sure enough, our birds were still there. My wife snuck up really close, to within five feet. It amazed us they didn't fly away. I felt for a minute God was in our midst, granting us this special glimpse of his glorious creation. It was a rare moment.

My wife took more pictures, and I waited by the picnic shelter when, behold, a second miracle! One of the birds moved ever so slowly in my direction. It was obviously under some sort of spell, because it continued in a straight line toward me. I've always loved nature's little creatures, and wondered for a moment if it knew I was safe to be around -- like it could trust me. I imagined how Dr. Dolittle must have felt, having all his feathery and furry friends snuggle up to him. I was deeply touched.

Years ago, I'd saved a raccoon from certain death. It was lying on the road at night when I drove by and saw it's eyes flash gold in the headlights. It unnerved me, so I turned around and pulled alongside. Sure enough, it was alive. A throw rug in the car served as the stretcher and papoose, and I nestled the raccoon somewhere in the back seat. To my amazement it started wandering around the inside of my car before sauntering up front and laying on my feet. (Now that was some ride. Try to drive a car while a racoon's snoozing on your feet.) By the time I got him to the after-hours crisis center, he was fully awake, snarling at the technician who reached at him with gloved hands. I found out later the little guy made it; a car struck, but only dazed him. I felt good.

Well, back to the bird miracle. Seeing this rare bird walk toward me also felt good. That is, until my wife broke the spell:

Me: "Look! He's coming toward me. I think it trusts me."

Wife: "I doubt it. It's probably just looking for handouts."

Great. Bubble pops. Duh, Doctor Rick . . . who's the bird brain here? Picnic shelter? . . . people food? . . . hungry munchkins dropping fries on the floor and shouting, "Mommy, can I feed the birds?" Oh well, it's still a special bird to me. So what if he's lost a bit of his wild edge and has become a couch potato. This was still one rare bird.

Until later.